Page 74 of Pretty Lies
“May I come in?” Juny asks from the hall.
I stand from the bed and walk over to the door, pulling it open and leaning on it, biting back a yawn.
“What’s up?”
He wears a slightly remorseful face, which confuses me, “I’m sorry for offending you earlier, it wasn’t meant to be insulting, it’s something I used to call my…sister.” He slightly growls that last word as though there’s some dark memory behind the word, and he had to force it past his lips.
I give him a small smile, doing my best to convey my appreciation, “It’s okay, Juny, really. I’m just a little on edge. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
He gives me a nod before rubbing the back of his neck and turning away, but as I’m closing the door, he stops me.
“Oh, Vince is going to order some Thai take-out, you want something?”
Isn’t Thai food a little too spicy for breakfast? I look down at my phone and gasp.
“What the hell?” I whisper to myself. It’s past one in the afternoon! Wasn’t it still morning when I came in here just twenty minutes ago? I feel my brows fold in surprise. How hadn’t I realized the time was flying by? It feels like only half an hour has passed since Gio and Luce left.
“Yeah, you’ve been real quiet for a couple of hours now. We figured you fell asleep. You okay?”
I shake my head and blink a few times, “Yeah, just a little confused. I guess I did fall asleep,” I look down at my rumpled sweater, “doesn’t feel like it though, still tired as hell.”
Suddenly his hand is on my forehead, making me freeze in response. After a few seconds, he flips his hand over and touches the back of his hand to my forehead once more.
I shoo his hand away once my surprise morphs into a strange irritation. It’s like he’s a muscled and tattooed mother hen, clucking anxiously over his little one.
“I’m not sick. Just tired and hungry. I’ll have Mongolian beef and a large sweet tea. Oh, and make sure they give you two spring rolls, and a small container of egg drop soup. And tell him not to forget to check for fortune cookies, I could use a little fortune right about now.”
He rocks back on his heels with his brows lifted, a curious look on his face as he tilts his head to the side as though he’s trying to get a look at me from a different angle.
“What’re you doing?” I ask with my hands on my hips.
“I think,” he rubs a hand across his jaw as he looks me up and down, “I think you’re pregnant.”
I stare at him a moment, calculating the time between my last period to now as my whole world begins to crumble at the seams.
No, no, no, no! This can’t be. This. Can’t. Fucking be!
“Shit, Lexi, are you okay?” Juny reaches for me, but I move back, my lips moving fast as I continuously count the number of days in my head. It’s been six weeks, forty-two days since my last cycle ended. Doc said I wasn’t pregnant when I was found and brought back home, so I know my womb wasn’t fouled by one of those sick bastards or Alan. But still, I can’t have a baby right now! I haven’t even spoken with the guys about it, nor do I really want to have that conversation…fuck, what am I going to do!?
I turn and rush to the restroom, slamming the door behind me and start frantically rifling through the cupboards and drawers for one of the pregnancy tests Doc left with me, but the trash can catches my eye. A memory from a few weeks ago comes flooding back; I had light bleeding on a Tuesday. It was barely there but enough that I wore a pad. I remember thinking it was a bit too early, but then letting the thought go because I’ve always been irregular and sometimes even skipping a whole month.
I lean on the counter with both hands and stare into the mirror, letting out a gust of breath like I just ran a damn marathon. Thank God, I am not pregnant. Yes, I want a family, I want children, but with all this bullshit with Alan still up in the air, I can’t even fathom bringing a child into this world. It’ll be tough to raise a child with fathers who are connected to the mafia, but add in a sadistic psychopath…yeah, no thanks.
Fathers. The thought just occurred to me that my child would have two fathers. Well, that is if Luce wants kids or plans on staying with me. I mean, I know we’ve had a blissful few days recently, but we’ve yet to have another deep conversation about the status of our relationship. I need to actually talk to him about it, see where his heart is at because I don't want to put mine on the line with Luce if we’re not going to be open and straightforward with one another.
Who am I kidding? My heart is already on the line.
I blow a frustrated breath upwards, forcing a few strands of hair out of my face. The past few days we’ve spent together in this little bubble of heaven, Luce asked me questions, trying to get to know me better. Some have made me curious about the reason behind them, others made me want to lie, but I never did. He asked me about grade school and old boyfriends. About my favorite movies and TV shows. About my favorite music and books. He asked what my dream job was when I was a kid, what life was like when I lived with my mother and stepfather, what it was like being an only child to my biological father. If I’d ever loved anyone before getting married to the king of dickbags. I answered everything as openly and as honestly as I possibly could.
In return I learned about him, about his childhood and what life was like before and during his stint in the penitentiary.
It was a breeze,he said when I asked him how he got through prison,lifting weights and reading was about all I did. Well, that and learning how to tattoo.He said his favorite book he read while there wasThe Princeby Niccolò Machiavelli. I was surprised by that, intrigued that he fell into such a controversial book, but still no talk about the status of me and him.
Of course, I could read between the lines and see that his barrage of in-depth questions are in fact an answer in itself, but I don't want to play the guessing game with him.
Gio had already told me he wants a legacy with me, to have me swollen with his child, but Luce and I have yet to even think of having such a discussion.
The sounds of voices pull me out of my thoughts, my eyes still stuck on my reflection as I listen to the muffled sounds. I shuffle closer to the door and lean into it, holding my breath as I strain to hear what’s going on in the living room. The words are hard to make out, but I can tell there’s another person here. My heart jumps into my throat.
